


Some Like It Hot

by mangochi



Series: Recalibrating [8]
Category: Almost Human
Genre: Body Temperature, Cuddling, Fluff, Karl Urban's stupid shoulder freckles, Kissing, M/M, Overheating, Scars, Sleepy John, basically dorian is good for all seasons, buy one get two free, sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 02:05:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangochi/pseuds/mangochi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets too hot in the summer and Dorian cools him down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Like It Hot

**Author's Note:**

> Shamelessly giving all sorts of cliche names to my fics.  
> Sort of a companion piece to Cold Outside, but can be read separately :)  
> So basically, the thrilling conclusion to the enthralling saga of me being cold is that I got a heater for my room and now it's toasty all the time, which is sort of how this fic came about.  
> Also partially inspired by episode 1x10 (glances around nervously) YOU'LL RECOGNIZE THE INFLUENCE WHEN YOU SEE IT.  
> But man, that was too good of a line and a scene to waste.

  
John tended to overheat in summer nights, no matter how much he cursed and grumbled at the impeccable climate control, and although Dorian could modify his body temperature to any reasonable degree, he found that pressing his body alongside John's was a much better alternative.

The man was tossing and turning now, kicking irritably at clinging sheets until he settled on his side with a grumpy sigh, his back turned towards Dorian.

Dorian didn't sleep, but he liked to entertain the notion of it, lying in bed with John until the beeping alert on the fringe of his vision forced him to relocate to his charger in the corner of the room. He rolled over to consider John's silhouette, his systems automatically calculating the angle of hunched shoulders and the curve of a smooth spine before he blinked the numbers away and concentrated on pure visual input.

The faintest glow from the lighting in the bathroom outlined the edges of John's hair and arm in dim orange, he insisted on keeping a light on at night and vehemently denied sulking when Dorian prodded at him teasingly for it. His skin glistened slightly with a thin sheen of sweat, the back of his tank riding up over the waistband of his boxers and exposing a section of heated flesh. As Dorian watched, John exhaled, sinking back into troubled sleep as exhaustion began to overwhelm his discomfort.

He counted the breaths until they were deep and even before scooting forward quietly, skimming his fingertips along the bottom of John's boxers absently. He had the leg off tonight, and Dorian was more fascinated by the empty space beneath his thigh than he was willing to admit.

After all the time he'd spent surrounded by MXs and their logical perfection, a little imperfection never failed to awe him.

John made a sleepy noise of protest when Dorian fitted himself against his back, fumbling backwards to pat clumsily at Dorian's hip. "Hot," he muttered into his pillow, wriggling his face in a feeble effort to find a cooler spot.

"Thanks," Dorian murmured, giving a silent chuckle when John emitted an unamused grunt in response. He did lower his temperature, however, until John, for lack of a better word, melted back against him with a contented grumble.

Dorian propped his head up on a hand, supporting his weight with an elbow as his hand crept up the side of John's leg and settled on his waist. His thumb brushed against that strip of bare skin, and he barely hesitated before edging his fingers beneath the hem of the damp tank, continuing to cool his skin as he danced across John's ribs.

"Wha..." John mumbled blurrily when Dorian reached his shoulder blade, flattening his palm to push farther up the back of his shirt in a soothing stroke. Dorian nuzzled the nape of John's neck, breathing in the salty tang of sweat and the woody smell that was all John, then mouthed lightly at his shoulder through black fabric. A flick of his tongue to the side, then he was kissing the cluster of sun freckles that scattered across John's shoulders and across his cheeks if he went too long outside without proper UV protection.

The man twitched beneath his administrations, breath hitching in half-conscious surprise when Dorian's hand slid around to his chest, moving down to his stomach and back up again.

"You....petting me?" John huffed, trying to twist his head around. Dorian caught a sliver of annoyed hazel, and he tipped his head forward to plant a crooked kiss on the corner of that frowning mouth.

"Goodnight, John," he said lightly, smiling in bemusement at the inarticulate growl he received. But John didn't move, though his breaths gained a distracted edge as Dorian pushed and pulled at the edge of his tank, rolling it up until he had full access to the expanse of flushed skin he wanted to touch, to taste, so badly.

John's back was marked with scars, and Dorian liked those imperfections as well. He liked how their color don't match the rest of John's skin, how some were slightly raised or pitted so that tracing them with his fingers or tongue felt new every time, no matter how many times he kissed or loved John's body. Really, compared to John, Dorian's body was quite unappealing.

"Ah," John said in surprise, sounding almost alert when Dorian scratched the edge of his thumbnail over a particularly jagged scar running from his bottom rib to the backside of his hipbone. A knife wound from a drugs bust six years before he'd met Dorian. Dorian had read all the files, heard all the stories, kissed all the words from John's slack lips as he pressed him against the kitchen counter or the couch or the floor and, even once, the backseat of the car.

"Shh," Dorian said with mock sternness, and resumed his absent touches. He liked John's heat, his warmth, everything that made him human and alive and present. He liked feeling his own skin grow warm, when he could listen to John's heartbeat and pretend that he was one hundred years of blood and bone instead of silicon and steel.

He liked how John made him feel human, and if it was a selfish thought, he attributed it to the little bits of humanity rubbing off on him every day.

John was asleep now, Dorian realized with a pleasant jolt. His body had finally gone slack, his skin growing cool where Dorian's hands had caressed away its heat, and his back bumped against Dorian's chest with every deep breath.

Dorian closed his eyes, letting the weight of John meld to his own, and considered his power reserves for a brief moment. Thirteen percent.

He could wait a little longer, he decided.

**Author's Note:**

> See my Tumblr here if you'd like, it's my fic blog but I can link you to my main blog privately :)  
> [here](http://www.mangopuffs.tumblr.com)


End file.
